The Little Man Inside My Head
by Faba
Summary: There's a little man inside my head telling me to make out with Galinda. . . ?


**Author's Note: The crackfic to end all crackfics. **

Fiyero sat by the river's edge rather dejectedly, staring at his own reflection. It was so, in fact, out of character for him to sit so still, that the author herself got so incredibly bored after the first sentence—so utterly bored that she made the idiot move.

It was a very small movement, very obscure, but even the most rude of motions can make a lady squeal and through a small projectile at someone. Fiyero had, of course, no idea what flipping up your middle finger at someone meant, but good Lord, no one tell him.

"Someone is saying something," Fiyero muttered to himself, still transfixed. "But I have no idea where it's coming from."

It was here that the poor fool convinced himself that he had a little person talking in his head. He was indeed confused when he realized that he couldn't possibly have a little person in his head, because even a munchkin couldn't fit in there. But that was heavily beside the point.

Fiyero decided to tell Elphaba, and the author laughed at him.

"Elphaba, I have a little person in my head telling me to make out with you passionately, so I think that I should follow its instructions! And yet, I can't possibly fathom the reason as to why it wants me to!" His expression was so comical that, for once, Elphaba found she couldn't come up with a snappy remark.

"Curious," she did say, though. "A small person has been telling me to make out with Galinda—it's rather scared me, actually."

Fiyero's eyes widened considerably. "_Galinda_?"

Elphaba nodded slowly. "It's convinced that, deep inside I have untold feelings for my roommate of the upmost passion. . . ."

"Well, you don't, _do you_?"

Elphaba opened her mouth, paused, and said, "I have no comment."

After brief squabbling, Fiyero and Elphaba decided to confront Galinda to see if she had heard anything unusual within the caverns of her mind. She had, in fact, and told them with bated breath.

"The person told me to make out with _Biq_! What a complete coincidence!" Apparently, she was unfazed by the fact that _Elphaba_ had been told make-out with her. "It was a very different experience, I'll tell you."

_So Galinda had actually gone and listened to voice_, the author thought, bemused. _Would she ever stop being so gullible? Make out with Boq. . . ._

"You actually made out with Boq, Galinda?"

"Elphie, the voice knows all—if I had denied it, I might have suffered a greatly painful death."

"Galinda, the voice told me to make out with you—would you like that?" Elphaba scowled.

The question as to which Galinda had no answer.

"Elphaba," Fiyero warned, "I really do believe I should make out with you now."

Elphaba took a frightened step back.

"Maybe we're looking at this the wrong way—I mean; maybe we're all just crazy. . . ."

"Wait, I'm-I'm hearing something else," Fiyero muttered. "Now it claims that I'm a fumbling idiot."

"Fiyero, dear," sighed Elphaba, "I do hate to inform you that you are not only a fumbling idiot, but also an annoying nutcase."

"It says I'm fashion-challenged!" Galinda sobbed.

"I always knew it," Elphie muttered.

"What, Elphaba!"

"Oh. . . ." Elphaba said, smirking and ignoring Galinda. "It says I'm smart."

Galinda took off her heel and pitched it at Elphaba's head. And down went the green girl.

"Pooh," Fiyero said, wincing. "That looks like it hurts."

Galinda stared down at Elphaba, too. "Now it says that I have good aim."

Fiyero nodded, cocking his head. "You do—it hit her square between the eyes. . . ."

"Although I could have used something better than a shoe—"

"Like a stick—"

"Or a rock—"

"Or both."

"You're right, Fiyero. Maybe a combo of them both. A 'rick'?"

"I'll name my first child 'Rick'," Fiyero decided suddenly.

"I'll name my first 'Stock'."

Fiyero looked over at her and nodded quietly. "But somehow I do believe I don't like that name. 'Stock'. There's something oddly . . . _bothersome_ about it."

Galinda's face pinched up. "You're right—it sounds like a death omen or something."

"_Almost_ like something to do with money."

"Eww. Eehh, I name my kid something else."

"Good _shitting_ idea!" said Elphaba, still on the ground.

After some more nonsense, Elphaba had a lump the size of Texas upon her forehead, although all of them had not a vague idea of what a 'Texas' was when the voice had so promptly commented about it.

"Maybe a 'Texas' is a custom shared by little men inside heads," Galinda guessed quietly.

Soon after, they found Nessarose attempting to drown herself. After much shrieking on Elphaba's part, Nessa was hauled upon the dock again. But she seemed oddly transfixed, and not even the author had a good reason as to why.

"The voice told me to," said Nessa mutely afterword.

They made Fiyero push the silent Nessa along the gloomy-skied grounds, searching for more victims of the little man's voice. Boq was also prey, found kissing his foot. He claimed that it tasted of marzipan, and there was no comment. He was, regardless, hauled along anyway, tugged by Elphaba who found it quite easy to grab a hold of the back of his shirt and tow the munchkin where they wanted—it seems that he was ridiculously light.

When they had finally reached the Teacher's Lounge, looking for Madame Morrible (to whom the author just decided they should be looking for) they found several teachers being ordered to perform ludicrous tasks, such as cooking each other and making prank phone calls on fake telephones (since they had no idea what a telephone was).

They all crowded the stairs up to Morrible's own personal office and knocked on the door quickly. When the Headmistress opened the door her face fell.

"My word, what has gone on here?" she asked attentively, eyeing Boq's foot, which was latched within his mouth.

"Everyone is hearing voices, telling them to do things—"

"We've all gone nuts!—"

"I think I'm dying!—"

"And I haven't got the faintest why I want to get passionate with my foot!"

Morrible looked over them all carefully, and a moment later, her face cleared up. "Oh, my dears, my dears, nothing's the matter with you. After all, the skies been looking gloomy all day—don't you see?"

Everyone suddenly looked relieved, much to the author's confusion, because, apparently, that all made perfect sense to them.


End file.
